


We Did Not Make the Instrument, The Instrument Made Us

by ragnarok89



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Explicit Consent, F/M, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Dreams, Inspired by Fanart, Inspired by Music, Internal Conflict, Long Shot, One Shot, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 03 Finale, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sensuality, Slow Build, Subspace, Touch-Starved, Touchy-Feely, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:26:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8375638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ragnarok89/pseuds/ragnarok89
Summary: Oneshot. AU. Optimus/Elita. Unanswered questions hung in the air, salty as the aftertaste of the truth. Takes place after season three.





	

He still couldn't believe that she was back.

She had come back from the dead. she sat there beside him.

_(Reborn – just like before; Leave a light, a light on)_

Elita was confused, lost and scared – she felt like she was ripped away from the peaceful slumber she once had. She was back to fulfill a destiny she didn't know she still had.

The war between the Autobots and the Decepticons had taken a huge toll on their home. It was clear that other planets, including Earth, were caught in such a perpetual conflict. Warriors, both seasoned and novice, fought valiantly. However, because of the war, many were lost forever.

Some cried, some prayed, some sought peace.

For the moment, Elita knew that sitting beside Optimus, knees tucked underneath her, his servo upon her own, was enough for her, even if the path before them was uncertain, unpredictable.

They just had to have faith.

Optimus hesitantly, but surely, placed a servo on her shoulder and gently guided her next to him. Elita stiffened a bit, but she eased a little once her head was on his shoulder, her servo on his chest. She closed her optics, feeling his spark beat pulse in his chest, and placed her hand on her own chassis, her own spark quickening.

She lifted her helm, and her optics met with his.

_(A sanctuary – no one else knew)_

Elita felt such familiar feelings bubble inside her; yes, she loved Optimus, and he loved her dearly, and they did become one so long ago. Sometimes it was hard to distinguish dream and reality, but she knew that this was very real. Her body felt heavy, from all the stress that she was put through; escaping from her prison and certain death, trying with all her might to defend her fellow Autobots, and being back in the same space with Orion, who had a new name.

Optimus Prime – it rolled off her glossa. His vocal processor had deepened with age, but he was still the Orion she knew and loved.

She wrapped her arms around him, feeling him shift and his arm gently pull her close to him; her warm breath grazed against his neck cables. He slowly pulled her onto his lap. Her gaze was gentle, her smile soft. Her digits caressed his cheek, smooth and inviting. He leaned in and proceeded to kiss her neck over and over. She threw her head back, her optics closed, as she sighed silently but sweetly, his breath scattering her like ashes, her gasp filling the chamber.

_(Smooth, ungrasping, yielding)_

They held each other close, even as she leaned in and kissed him. This wasn't a dream - it was reality. They were far away from the others on the ship, in their own space, and the space wrapped itself and their minds. They had missed this, being close to each other, their skin, their forms, the pieces of their continents finally connected.

It was hard to tell how much time has passed – the tide had come in, and the moon had risen.

( _A hidden place_ )

Pulling away suddenly, Elita then shifted herself so that she would straddle Optimus, leaning in and in turn kissing his neck cables, trembling noiselessly. He writhed as pleasure sparked, ashamed at his helpless responses, sighing deeply, quietly, gritting his denta, fighting against the urge to thrust up.

His gentle servos grazed down her back in fluid motions; she was silk beneath his palms, smooth and sleek over hard metal plating. They quivered at his caresses, but he didn't dive to the point. He wanted to take his time, to extend the moment, to enjoy the feel of her. His servo moved over her abdomen, moved up higher and caressed her chestplates.

It elicited a gasp, followed by a moan. She quelled it before she made her way back to his lips, kissing him, putting her inviting and all too seamless servos on his faceplate. Her form was still trembling.

All sound disappeared, steadily losing its reality.

_(Desperate, yearning; fragilest)_

Tears came to her optics, stinging and unyielding. She regrettably pulled away from Optimus, and tried to stifle a sob. She couldn't remember the last time she cried. Why now? When they were becoming close, after all the years of being separate, taken away by wretched fate, and then brought back?

Optimus, confused, caught his breath. His optics narrowed, glimmered with concern. She tried to stifle her sobs, sniffling and wiping away any remnants of sadness, but the tears just kept coming.

Night had taken over, and an ever-greater stillness enveloped the room. Unanswered questions hung in the air, salty as the aftertaste of the truth. ( _Still strong, dark and divine_ )

A servo came to rest on her shoulder, and she found herself breathing quicker, her sensors standing on end. She ached to look around, but remembered that this moment was fleeting, too precious to look away from.

Elita took a deep audial vent, then reached up, resting her servo over Optimus's. She winced, but she didn't pull away. it was against her skin, and she caught her breath as she felt warm metal plating against her own. She turned her helm, jerky-slow, to look down at her shoulder; when she blinked, there was, for a split-second, the shadow of his helm, but that was all.

When she closed her optics, though, she could feel his familiar servo beneath her digits, and rolled her servo around so that she could slip it under, into, Optimus's.

"Are you all right?" asked Optimus.

"Yes, I am."

She could feel the scratches on Optimus's digits, the roughness that came from his time during the war. Elita turned on her pedes, her optics closed, and offered her other servo as well.

There was a slight moment's hesitation, then Optimus's servo slipped into hers. She smiled softly, squeezing just to feel Optimus squeeze back.

Emboldened, Elita hesitated, but pulled herself closer to him, hoping for more.

"I was sure that you perished. But there were still moments where I felt your presence in my spark, that you pressed on, that you kept fighting," Optimus uttered, his tone reassuring, but Elita could hear the ache in his voice.

"You never did doubt me, Optimus."

"No, I couldn't."

She knew that it didn't mean that he wouldn't look upon the Earth's sky for answers, all throughout everything, that there was a small chance that she was out there.

She knew that the Earth was where he could find her, so she remained, hoping against fear and pressing on through the perpetual conflict wrought from Cybertron and onto this planet.

"Were you alone?" Elita asked. "All those years in the war, even with the others, were you alone?"

"I had my team, yes. But what you left could never be replaced. _**You**_ could never be replaced."

Elita smiled, didn't want to see anything that might affect her ability to see Optimus, finally.

Optimus was just as she had seen in her dreams. Bright, smart optics, bold features. In Elita's dreams, however, he had not worn the look of bittersweet relief and awe.

With a shaking servo, Optimus released one of Elita's servos to stroke her faceplate. "I'm sorry," He quietly admitted, as if saying it too loudly would break this moment between them.

"There's nothing to feel sorry for," breathed Elita.

She looked up, her lips trying to form a smile beneath all the tears unprovoked. He in turn let a soft smile grace his features and he put his arms around her, pulling her in, embraced her, gently but never letting go.

He almost lost her too many times. He spent too long living without her, too long far away as she faced dangers that he couldn't protect her from.

She in turn held him back, her head finding the hollow of his shoulder. The warmth enveloped them, optics shut, and her trembling ceased finally. She couldn't imagine the visions and nightmares that had tormented him, making him grasp for her so strongly. ( _It was in the darkness, before the dawn_ )

The difference was that that was all in the past; this moment was their present, it was now.

This moment was real.

_**It was all real.** _

So, she let him embrace her tightly, and he returned such an embrace, knowing that they both needed it so desperately and knowing that this was something they needed.

"It's okay," she told him over and over, holding him close to her.

Widening shadows held their grip on the outside world, but the light was still there with them.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by “Midnight” by Coldplay and "We Did Not Make the Instrument, The Instrument Made Us" by Kaki King.


End file.
